I Remember
by The Handsome Barbarian
Summary: They may be the strongest demigods Camp Half Blood has seen this century, but even they can't escape what goes on in their own minds. Rating for mentions of and repercussions of PTSD.


**I just felt like writing this, so I sat down and did. I've meant to for a while, but never got around to it. Also, I've never written anything quite like this before, so hopefully I did it justice.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Percy Jackson or the rest of the series.**

"Percy!"

Percy's eyes shot open as someone barged into his cabin. He squinted into the half light, a lone figure partly illuminated by the moon outside.

"Malcolm?" he asked, confused. "What- what do you want?" He felt disgruntled. He hadn't been sleeping well, hadn't been sleeping well for weeks. He desperately needed sleep, but it still stubbornly avoided him. He glanced at the clock by his bed and groaned. "Dude, it's two in the morning."

Malcolm was panting lightly. "Sorry, Percy, but I need to talk to you."

Percy sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked at him groggily. "Whatever it is, it had better be good," he warned. "Because if not, I will drown you in a toilet."

"And I don't doubt that," Malcolm placated, "but it's about Annabeth."

Percy was wide awake in an instant. "What is it?" he asked. He swung his legs off his bed and pushed off the covers.

Malcolm stubbornly and self consciously kept his eyes riveted above Percy's shirtless torso. "I woke a few minutes ago, and she wasn't in her bunk."

Percy frowned. "Did you check the bathroom?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Of course I checked the bathroom, Percy! Son of Athena, remember?"

Percy nodded absently. "Yeah, yeah. But if she's not in her cabin, then where is she?"

"That's why I got you," Malcolm said. "We were hoping you would have some idea of where she is? I mean, a few people are up looking for her, but we honestly have no idea where she would've gone."

An idea struck Percy, and his eyes sharpened, finally free from the haze of sleep. "I know," he announced, and went to grab his shoes.

"Where?" Malcolm asked excitedly.

Percy sat and pulled on his shoes quickly. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I'll get her."

"But-" Malcolm protested as Percy ignored him and headed toward the door. "She's my sister. I care about her too"

"I know you do, but I can handle this. Don't worry about it," Percy reassured him. He pushed open the door and stepped out under the moonlight.

"Wait!" Malcolm called from inside the cabin. After a few seconds, he burst out, holding something in his hand. "At least put on a shirt," he pleaded breathlessly.

Percy frowned and looked down, only just realizing that he had been sleeping in a pair of gym shorts with no shirt. A deep blush spread across his cheeks as he realized that there were a few aforementioned Athen kids out as well, looking for Annabeth. Mostly girls, they were all staring at him, jaws dropped, frozen in whatever action they had previously been engaged in.

Percy cursed under his breath and hurriedly caught the shirt Malcolm tossed to him. Without making eye contact with the girls gawking at him, he slid into it and jogged away as quickly as possible without seeming like he was inwardly wishing he could turn invisible.

As he left them behind, Percy's mind turned to Annabeth. She, like him, was also suffering from nightmares. Percy hesitated to call it PTSD, because it made them sound like debilitated soldiers, but neither of them could get those images and sounds out of their heads.

Every once in awhile, Annabeth would give up and sneak into his cabin in the middle of the night. After the first few occurrences of this, her half-siblings had learned to check his cabin before panicking. It wasn't a normal thing for them, however, since it was awkward explaining to someone that they sometimes slept together without actually… _sleeping_ together.

These were the only nights that either of them got any good sleep, but if she hadn't come straight to him, then something was wrong, more so than usual.

A chill ran down Percy's spine. The night was cool for early summer. The moon shone brightly, illuminating his way. He had played down his worry for Annabeth in front of Malcolm-the kid worried enough already-but his stomach was churning. As he ran, images were flashing through his mind, images of Annabeth's tear-stained face as she hung over the Pit. The look in her eyes as she realized that, no matter how hard Percy tried, he wouldn't be able to pull them back out. The look in her eyes after they landed, when they realized that they would probably die there, before their seventeenth birthdays, where no one cared and no one would know.

The look in her eyes when she realized that he was going to try to stay behind, to press the button and let her escape.

He never wanted to see any of it ever again, never wanted to cause her so much pain. He would give anything to take the burden for her, even if it broke him (and he knew it very well could), but he couldn't. All he could do was hold her and watch as she tried to claw back to the surface, a battle raging in his own mind as well.

He was better at hiding it. Other than the bags under his eyes and the occasional flinch at something harmless, he was able to hide behind a wall of humor. Sometimes, Piper would give him a piercing look, as if she could tell he was holding something back. Sometimes, Leo would recognize the sound of pain behind a joke, a sound he knew all too well, and he would take Percy aside. He would ask if he was okay, guilt hiding behind his eyes, somehow blaming himself.

Percy denied it all, of course. What could he possibly say? Yes, he was reliving Tartarus over and over again every time he closed his eyes. Yes, every time he slept, he saw Annabeth falling into the Pit, heard her desperate, heartbreaking cries for him to return to her, even though he stood right in front of her. Yes, he remembered her look of horror at how he had had to defeat Akhys.

But what would they say? What could they say? All it would do is make them uncomfortable, or, worse, make them pity him. He was Percy Jackson, the boy who defeated Ares with a sword when he was twelve, the boy who held the world for Artemis, the boy who defeated Kronos. He refused to become the terror-stricken boy who will never be the same, the boy who was abducted and brainwashed, who survived Tartarus only to accidentally raise Gaea with a _nosebleed._

He wouldn't do it. And so, the only person he could open up to was Annabeth, someone who was dealing with the same problems and didn't need anything more to add to the weight on her shoulders. She leaned on him, and he did his best to be worthy of that trust. One of the ways he could do that was to listen when she needed it and keep his worried to himself, at least until she was ready to handle it.

Inwardly, he worried that day would never come.

As he approached the beach, a solitary figure shook him out of his thoughts. He slowed, taking in the scene; a slim silhouette outlined by beautiful water. The ocean had long been where Percy could think best, and, recently, Annabeth had picked up on his habits.

He approached her quietly, and, careful not to scare her, said softly, "Annabeth?"

Despite his best efforts, she flinched, then relaxed. "Hey, Percy," she said, her voice thicker than usual.

When she said nothing else, Percy stepped up to stand next to her. He took her hand and squeezed it gently, as if to remind her that he was there for her, and they stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

Finally, Percy looked over at her. Her face was tense, as if she was trying to keep any and all emotion from showing. She held her head high, proud despite the drying trail of tears on her cheeks. Her gray eyes shone in the soft light.

Percy swallowed. "Annabeth? Are you-" He was about to ask if she was okay, but stopped himself. It was a stupid question. If she was alright, she wouldn't be out here.

The edge of her lips lifted slightly, amused by his efforts, but it quickly disappeared. She looked at him, and his heart jumped into his throat. Her beautiful eyes were bloodshot, her hair wild and tangled. She tried to smile reassuringly at him, but failed to do anything of the kind.

Percy wasn't sure what to say, so he took the safe route. "Malcolm was worried," he said.

"He's always worried," Annabeth replied, facing the ocean again.

"No, I mean, he was about to send out a full search party. You should be lucky I stopped him," Percy continued, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Yeah, I suppose I am pretty lucky, aren't I?" Annabeth said absently.

Percy got the feeling that the search party wasn't the only thing she was referring to. He squeezed her hand again. "Annabeth," he tried.

She sniffed, and his heart contracted painfully. "Did you get any sleep?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I just- every time I close my eyes, I-" Her voice choked up, and she stopped.

Percy knew what she was talking about. "I know," he said. "But it's okay. We're out now."

She shook her head. "Are we?" she asked. "If we can't get it out of our heads, are we out at all?"

Percy was confused. "Is that a trick question?"

"Come on, Percy." She turned to him, dropping his hand. "You know what I'm talking about. Stop pretending to be so clueless."

Percy pressed his lips together. "Listen, Annabeth. We escaped. We got out of that hell hole in one piece. We stopped Gaea." He was saying this to convince himself as much as her, but could tell it wasn't working on either of them.

"Only barely," she whispered. "Look, Percy, I know we're out, I _know_. But I can't get it out of my head, and if I can't do that, then what was even the point of escaping in the first place?"

Percy's head was spinning. "Annabeth, what do you mean?"

Annabeth chuckled bitterly. "I'm still there, in my head. What does it matter if my body isn't?" Tears shone in the corners of her eyes. Percy's eyebrows furrowed, then he took her by the hand and pulled her into an embrace. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and Annabeth immediately reciprocated, throwing her arms around his neck. They stood there for a few seconds, listening to the tide washing in and out steadily.

It seemed unfair that the world could still be so peaceful after all that had happened. Why did everyone else get a happy ending, while he and Annabeth were the ones crying on the beach, reliving death over and over again? It was his biggest question. Why? Surely they deserved something better than this. It was as if the Fates were taking their life lines and purposefully fraying them until they almost snap, wrapping them around each other in painful, convoluted knots.

Percy could feel Annabeth's silent tears soaking his shirt, but he didn't care. This was scaring him. He could handle crying. He could handle screaming in the middle of the night or nightmares of his own. He had done enough of both. But Annabeth sounded like she was giving up on him, which was the last thing he needed. If she gave up, the gods knew what she would end up doing. Actually, probably even they wouldn't know.

"Annabeth," he mumbled into her hair. She pulled back and looked up at him.

He put her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes. "You listen to me," he said. "We escaped because we're human. We don't give up. Even more than that, we are demigods. No matter what happens, we keep fighting. What for, well, sometimes it's unclear. All I know is, I fought because I love you, and I don't want to lose you."

Annabeth tried to look away, but he wouldn't let her. "I love you, no matter how many stupid nicknames you come up with for me, okay? I fought to get out of that hell because I knew that living with you is better than anything Elysium can cook up, literally or figuratively."

She let out a breath, and Percy supposed that was the closest to laughter she was going to get. "But," she started, "how can you know that? What if I'm like this for the rest of my life? What if you're stuck with a shell of someone that you used to know for the rest of your days?"

"But that won't happen," Percy said confidently.

Annabeth was not convinced. "You can't know that," she said dejectedly.

Percy gritted his teeth. "Look, I have the same nightmares. You know that. I have the same problems. I can't forget Akhys either, and no matter how often I tell myself that there was no other way to get out of there, I still scare myself. I remember Kelli and Arachne."

He was getting worked up now, tears threatening the corners of his eyes, his throat burning. "I remember what Tartarus looked like. I remember the legions of monsters we fought through. Even all the hell we went through before, with Luke and Kronos and Hera and the Romans. But I also remember Damasen. I will never forget Bob or Small Bob, two of the best good monsters I have ever known."

Annabeth was now on the verge of sobbing. "Why are you bringing them up, Percy?" she asked through sobs. She fisted her hands in his shirt and buried her head in his chest. "I don't want to remember them."

Percy ran his fingers through the tangles in her golden hair. "I know," he said. "But they would want to be remembered. They gave everything for us, Annabeth, to get us back into the world, to save the world. It would be disrespectful to let their sacrifice go to waste."

Sobs wracked through Annabeth's slim frame. Her knees began to shake, and Percy knelt with her, letting her lean into him. "Someday, we _will_ get out of there," he promised. "Someday, we will get past it, and we will do it together. We will be living proof that demigods are stronger than we look. We went into Tartarus, the birthplace of every monster ever created, and we came back out, a little worse for wear, but alive and kicking. And we kicked Gaea right back to where she came from." He paused. "Although I'm not completely sure where she that is. Isn't she the Earth?"

Annabeth laughed through her tears. "You were doing pretty good up to that point, Percy."

"What are you talking about?" Percy asked. "I'm doing amazing."

"Whatever you say," Annabeth said. She adjusted her position against Percy's shoulder, and they sat in silence for a few more minutes. She raised her head one more time, her eyelids heavy, and she looked at Percy. "I love you. You know that, right?" she asked quietly.

Percy planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Yeah, I know," he whispered.

Eventually, Annabeth's breathing steadied, and she slowly began to tilt toward the sand. Percy guided her head down into his lap, where she rested comfortably. She wasn't smiling, but her face was peaceful, and it would remain that way for the rest of the night. It was the first time she would get a genuinely good night's sleep in months.

The water lapped at the shore peacefully. Percy watched the reflection of the stars ripple in the waves. He looked up at the heavens, and a sob choked his throat. A memory of a bright silver shock of hair and a promise flashed through his mind.

A lone tear glistened on Percy's face. "Bob says hello," he whispered quietly to the stars.

They said nothing back.


End file.
